


Taken

by Torched22



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Torture, Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 12:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19927987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torched22/pseuds/Torched22
Summary: Hell hath no fury like an averted apocalypse's scorn. Aziraphale and Crowley are kidnapped and tortured in hell. Even if their corporations survive it, can their friendship? *Warning- hurt Aziraphale, torture and non-con*THE STORY HAS BEEN REVISED - so if you've stumbled upon it before...perhaps you could give it another read? <3 :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled with this story for a LONG TIME and finally decided upon it's direction. So if you've read it before...maybe you could give it another go because it's changed (in good ways I hope). Thank you! <3

Last time, they had been prepared. It was difficult to see one another dragged off by henchmen, but they could at least rest assured that each would come out okay in the end. After the almost-pocalypse, Aziraphale had gone to Anathema inquiring about more future predictions...only to be told that further prophecies had been burned. 

He had turned away from her door, his smile disintegrating as soon as he was out of sight and a cold and icy fear had gripped his heart. He never would have expected that the young woman who grew up so engrained in the book's prophecies would destroy the further works of her ancestor, Agnes Nutter. 

What he didn't realize at that time though, was that Agnes, being quite good at her predictions, had predicted her great descendant would do exactly what she did - burn the prophecies. And seeing as they were critically important, she had sent another copy through another courier, to another place.

Poor Aziraphale didn't know any of this, and so he trudged back to London with a dread that made him forego eating for an entire two weeks. He had learned in heaven that it wasn't his place to try and predict the future and he'd never disagreed. But Agnes' book had made things so much easier, it had even saved he and Crowley's lives. What if they needed another life saving hint but the answers were in ashes?

It kept him up at night. 

And it ought to. Their respective offices were coming for them. 

This time when the henchmen came Aziraphale was caught completely unaware. One moment he was in the soft orange lit glow of the bookstore reading Circe, and the next, being had manifested inside of his book shop. Panic reared in his chest as he was hit and dragged to the floor, his hands secured in miracle preventing manacles. He squirmed on the floor, fighting, but being bound and gagged regardless. His heart pounded furiously and his vision swam. He attempted to breathe through his nose and calm himself, but black dots spotted his vision. Terror filled his chest as his thoughts immediately went to Crowley. Where was he? Was he okay? He tried to ask, but his words were snuffed out by the gag. This was it - he wouldn't escape this time, he thought to himself. Rather than panic further as the blindfold was lowered in place, he prayed. He thanked God for his time on Earth and with Crowley, and silently asked that even if he were to be destroyed, that Crowley would live.

The journey to wherever they were going felt impossibly long. Deep down, he knew where he was headed, but he still didn't want to admit it. He was being dragged and shoved and pushed, transported to that dark and dank place he hated with every fibre of his being. He couldn't see through the thick black blindfold and no one around him spoke. Disorientation clawed at his frantic mind and all he could focus on was his heavy breaths working around the gag. Logic told him that it hadn't been a long trip, but to him, getting to wherever they were taking him felt as though it took eons. 

As soon as the smell of sulfur trickled into his nostrils, he knew where he was and a cocktail of dread and despair and panic rose up sharply in his chest. 'No, not here,' he though, 'I haven't fallen. I don't want to be here.' Just as this terror screamed through his body, another smell graced his nose. It was musky and woodsy and had a hint of cinnamon and clover. 

Crowley. 

Crowley was here. 

His immediate reaction was relief but that relief was immediately stamped out by horror. What were their plans for his beloved friends? Dread curled around his suffocating heart. 

Silence gave way to a clattering and clanking of monumental proportions, and yet it sounded distant somehow. He supposed that he and Crowley were in some room with their captors. Just a guess, because the blindfold remained secured to his face. He wondered... why bring them both down here? Were they going to inform him that he too was doomed? Try to force him to fall? Torture one or both of them?

The blindfold was ripped off and his eyes stung with the smoke in the air. It wasn't too hard to adjust to the light, save for the searing pain of the flickering flames in urns on either side of the room. His frantic gaze took in the scene before him. 

Crowley was seated in a steel chair that was bolted to the floor, great chains wrapped around his body, but his mouth was not gagged. Aziraphale could see sweat beading at his temples and a frenzied gleam in his eye - he was scared - but tried not to show it.

"Aziraphale," Crowley spoke, he sounded frightened and broken. The only other time the angel heard him like that was during WWII. 

He gave a sad little smile in return for the words, but it didn't matter. The gag was still wedged in his angelic mouth and his hands were chained behind his back. 

"Why are you doing this?" Crowley spat at his former boss, the fly permanently affixed to her head. Just as shocking, Gabriel was standing next to her. What on Earth was he doing down here? Aziraphale wondered. The space was ill fitting on him, he seemed boldly out of place with his lavender eyes and clean gray suit. But the menacing look upon his face did fit in superbly with the atmosphere here in hell. 

"Punishment," Gabriel said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Maybe we can't destroy you both, but we can certainly hurt you."

"Why would you want to? Because you didn't get your way? Poor little Gabriel."

The golden ringed hand came out and smacked Crowley across the face for his insolence, the ring catching on his lip and splitting it. 

"It's not about what I want," he conceded. "6,000 years is quite long enough. The humans have had their time and now should have been the time for battle. But noooo, you and Aziraphale had different ideas."

"Did we?" Crowley shot back. "If the Ineffable plan is so ineffable, it would have happened regardless of Aziraphale's and my efforts? Which means that She must have meant for us to divert the apocalypse."

Gabriel's mouth open, then closed, doing this a few times. "You two are nothing more than disobedient liabilities," Gabriel hissed. "And everyone has had enough of your antics," he then turned and regarded Aziraphale's scared blue eyes. "You like food don't you Aziraphale?" Gabriel walked towards him. "Well, now it's time for your just desserts." 

The angel's heart skipped in his chest.

Violet eyes nodded to the someone or something behind the angel, and his heart dashed in his chest. What were they going to do? The not knowing was tearing him apart.

"No, no," Crowley said as one of the creatures from below landed a square blow to the angel's kidneys. Pain erupted in his angelic body and tears gathered at his eyes. He had to wear a brave face though - if only for Crowley. 

Two more creatures appeared, joining the first, and connecting their fists and feet to various points of Aziraphale's body. 

Some foreign emotion flashed across Gabriel's face as knuckles hit the angel's ribcage & jaw and feet smashed into his shins. Crowley was screaming in the background of it all. "Stop," "don't hurt him," "you beasts, I'll kill you!" Crowley's voice was strained ragged with yelling. 

Though the blows hurt considerably, what truly cracked Aziraphale was the crackling pain in his friend's voice.

Finally, Gabriel waved and the creatures stepped back, stopping their barrage. Aziraphale's eyes squinted open, blood flowing down his face. One of the things even took the gag off as he walked away, leaving liquid red life seeping in between his broken lips. A massive black eye was forming on his right. He knew that ribs were broken, maybe even his shin. But all he could feel was gratitude that they hadn't hurt Crowley. 

"I thought angels were all about forgiveness," he croaked. 

"Oh, we are, but you haven't asked for that. No, you gleefully follow where Crowley leads, don't you?" 

"He's my friend," he said stolidly and a flicker of heartbreaking hope caught in Crowley's golden snake eyes. Gabriel's expression soured, turning dark and treacherous. He nodded off to the side and one of the things had returned, this time with a knife. The blade glinted in the fire's flicker and Crowley's golden eyes went wide with fear. Aziraphale had slumped to the floor during the barrage, and the thing lifted him by the scruff of his neck. 

'Leave him the fuck alone. Hurt me, I don't care," Crowley pleaded, but he knew that his pleas were falling upon deaf ears. 

"Exactly," his boss replied. "You'd gladly march to your destruction for the angel, but it kills you to see him hurt, doesn't it?" 

His lip trembled and he felt a hatred so new and deep and searing that it must be branding his soul (if he had one). 

This creature at Aziraphale's right, began swiping at the angel with the blade. The rip and tear of fabric echoed in the small space and the blonde's usually chipper face contorted in agony. Crowley watched in horror, his eyes glued to the knife's teeth tearing his friend apart.

"'S ENOUGH!" Crowley screamed, but the blade kept slicing. Slick now with angel's blood, the creature finally stopped when violet eyes nodded his head towards on the urns. Hellfire. This was it. They didn't have on each others' faces this time. The creature pocketed the knife, in favor of something else, drawing it out of some unknown realm. He took this new metal thing and held it over the hellfire.

Aziraphale trembled, making his chains shake loudly. The creature then snapped his fingers and all the shredded mass of Aziraphale's doomed clothing fell away as his hands were un and re-shackled, this time, above his head. His body strained, stretched out and aching and the brand was coming towards him. 

Fear bloomed afresh in the angel's chest as he tried to squirm away. He could feel the press of the gaining heat as it came towards him.

"Hellfire didn't kill you last time," Crowley's boss said. "Maybe it'll kill you this time? And if not, you'll have a lovely little brand from us. It was made special. Made to last." 

Aziraphale knew that this would kill him. Crowley was no longer wearing his face. His beloved friend of 6,000 years looked at him with such terror and horror and apologetic eyes that screamed a thousand unspoken things. Tears streamed down his dirty ashen cheeks. "It's okay," Aziraphale said in a near whisper. "It's tickety-boo," he gave a half grin and an open sob escaped Crowley's lips. 

The brander approached and Aziraphale turned his head and forced his eyes shut as tight as possible. The brand hit his hip and a sickening searing sizzle erupted. A scream wriggled up from the angel's chest and flew out his distended jaw. It hurt worse than anything he'd ever experienced, even worse than the slice to his leg during the First War in heaven. 

But...

But he was alive. He heaved in air, rattling in his chains, tears rolling down his face.

Flame danced along his skin around the brand...but...he was alive. 

The brand came away and he gasped for breath. 

"I dunno," the creature said. "I don't think we've hurt him enough." 

Crowley stared, astonished. The angel hadn't perished from the hellfire. He was, however, branded. To his utter disbelief and complete terror though, he watched the creature go behind Aziraphale and begin massaging motions around his shoulder blades. "Noooo!" he shuttered, watching his friend's great white wings manifest, already knowing what was to come. The creature was reaching up, pulling out feathers in great clumps and even Gabriel turned away from the sight with a wince. 

It was only about thirty seconds of ripping and tearing, Aziraphale screaming the entire time, his head going fuzzy and light as blood poured out from his wounds and pooled on the floor. Finally, Gabriel gave the word to stop. 

The angel was naked and shaking, his body at the breaking point. He felt so vulnerable and exposed...ashamed.

"You know, if you discorporate, you won't be given another body," his boss said. "You'll forever be separated from him," he spat in Crowley's direction. "I wanted this for you so that you could see what hell's like, so that you can get back on the right path."

"Oon...onlllly pat...path I wan...is one that lets....mmme...be with...Cr...Crowl…an...and sti....love....Her. S-she....didn....auth..authorize...th's...I...know it."

"Maybe She did, maybe She didn't," he said flippantly. "Oh and your feelings for him," he jabbed a finger in Crowley's direction, "I know all about that. I didn't realize it before, but I do now. Now I see it, now I feel it, here in this room. It radiates off you Aziraphale."

"Wh...what...dos...does?"

"Love," he came close to the angel's face, cupping it in his hands. 

"'m an angel...'s what we do...we arrrre...lov…"

"No, this is different. You don't just love him, you're in love with him. I see it in your soul."

Aziraphale's face was trapped in those strong hands and his blue eyes wandered over to Crowley to see what his reaction would be. It was a face that wore confusion and hurt and loss and chaos. 

"You yeeearrrn for him. You ache for him. Your hands and mouth and eyes - they burn to touch and taste him," his hands slid down Aziraphale's body caked in blood. His head rested against Aziraphale's bloody chest. "I never wanted this for you Aziraphale," he said softly and it sounded honest. "I hadn't known that you were already being tortured," he ran a hand through the white hair and stained it red. 

"Have you ever let him touch you?" his hands skated across the vibrating flesh and came dangerously close to a very private part. "Here?"

Aziraphale clamped his lips shut. 

"No, I suppose you haven't. You haven't even let him see you naked. You don't even dare hug him because you know that you'd never be able to stop touching him once you started. Your restraint is admirable." He rotated the angel so his back was now facing Crowley. He pushed between his shoulder blades and the torn wings disappeared. Then his hands travelled lower, cupping each cheek. 

"F-fucking stop it," Crowley's voice shook like an earthquake. 

And he did. Wordlessly. 

Gabriel stepped away and began walking off. The creature who had slashed at Aziraphale took his place, parting those cheeks and running a blood slicked finger down the divide. 

"STOP IT!" Crowley screamed as he shook in his chains


	2. Chapter 2

"Don't do this Krone, please," Crowley pleaded.

"Oh, Aziraphale thought hazily, the creature has a name..."

"You can have me instead. You've done it before," he admitted, words shocking the angel who was suddenly realizing that hell had likely violated Crowley in the past. That liquid despair injected with fury began to choke him. "Surely this isn't sanctioned by heaven," Crowley continued.

"It's not," Crowley's boss said, "it seems to be sanctioned by Krone though," she turned and walked out of the room quickly. Despair clawed at Crowley's chest as he watched long, pitch black, foreign fingers stroke at Aziraphale's ass. 

"I'll give you whatever you want."

"Don't...don't say that," the angel urged in a broken whisper. 

Krone spun him back around so that he was facing Crowley and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Aziraphale was less than a foot away from the chained up redhead to give him a better view. "Like what you see Crowley?" the thing taunted. Krone was behind his angel, midnight black hands on his pale and shaking hips. "Never even have had an orgasm, have you little angel?" he asked. 

Aziraphale didn't want to answer. He was already feeling so humiliated. He had no intention of letting the answer pass his lips, but Krone grabbed his side and pain erupted under his already bruised ribs. 

"Ahhh! N...no..." he shut his eyes to hide his embarrassment but felt his face burn with it anyway. 

"I bet you wake up at night though, hard and aching after dreaming of Crowley. An involuntary shudder slid down the angel's spine. The words rang too true. "He can do incredible things with his tongue you know..." 

"Don't," Crowley croaked, his sanity on the edge of splintering if it hadn't already.

"He hasn't waited for you like you've waited for him," Krone said. His hands disappeared off the angel's hips and a loud zipper sound filled the small room.

"If you do this..." Crowley sobbed...

"You'll what?" Krone moved Aziraphale so that Crowley would have a full view. He slotted himself between Aziraphale's cheeks and squeezed them tightly to ensconce his huge shaft. "I think he likes it," he said softly. "Finally feeling a cock against him while he looks down upon your face. You're hard with it." 

Crowley couldn't deny the traitorous erection that had grown in his pants at his first sight of the naked angel, and he detested himself for it. He didn't want to look down to Aziraphale's sex, but because of his peripheral vision, he knew that the angel wasn't hard. 

"I think the best torture for both of you... is for you to suck his cock," he said to Crowley. "It won't make him fall because he's being forced into it. And you, and he, will crave such an encounter again for all of eternity and not be able to have it unless the angel falls."

"You...you sick bastard," his words shattered, falling in shards loudly around them. 

That hand, as dark as the fathomless depths of space, gripped Aziraphale's cock and the angel groaned, he couldn't imagine becoming aroused at a time like this. Crowley made the mistake of looking directly at the angel's cock in Krone's hands. The long fingers made the flesh they held look pure white. Aziraphale was long and circumcised but limp in the foreign hand. 

Well, this just won't do will it?" Krone grit, his voice graveled. He lifted a hand and snapped. All three of them watched the angel's cock raise traitorously. It felt like such a deep violation. Aziraphale's tears only picked up speed. 

"I'm not...not going to rape Aziraphale," he said, dragging his eyes up and away from the cherry colored head that now leaked. 

"Well, your options are to take him in your mouth until he comes," Krone was still sliding his cock between the angel's cheeks as he spoke, his words rocking with the motion. "Or...I'll take him from behind with no preparation, which I'm certain will kill him." Krone stopped and stepped to the side, his huge cock bobbing up to his belly button. It was a massive, unearthly thing. 

"I don't want to rape you angel," his torn gaze stared up at the angel for absolution. 

Blood continued to drip from his cuts and his broken lip. Crowley looked so sad seated beneath him and his cock pointed at his friend with insistence. 

"It is not rape my dear. I give...give you perm...permission," he got it out finally. 

Crowley's head felt like detaching and rolling away. The soot in the air made it hard to breathe. He felt wretchedly dirty and irreparably damaged and he wasn't even the one being tortured. In that moment, he'd wished he'd never even met Aziraphale, because the angel wouldn't be here now if not for him.

His options were horrid but if he didn't do this...well...Krone was right, it might very well kill him to be split by that massive, barbed cock. And the thought of that thing...that creature...inside his angel...made his stomach turn.

"P...please...su...suck me Crowley..."

"Stop it."

"I have wanted you...for...s-so. long."

Crowley breathed but a sob came out instead. Aziraphale was just making things up to make it easier for him to do this, but he still wasn't sure that he could.

"I need...you to do this fo...for me...so he won't..."

"This can't be our first time," he cried. "You don't deserve this, not any of this. You shouldn't even be in this wretched place."

"Bu...but I'm wi...with you, s-so it's...okay." 

A noise caught in Crowley's throat. 

"Time's up," Krone said, moving behind the angel, but Crowley moved faster. He opened his mouth and scooted forward to swallow down the angel. A noise of relief and desperation and gratitude was ripped from Aziraphale and Krone moved to watch the proceedings. 

Crowley strained against his bonds, chains digging into his chest as he craned his head forward and sucked the angel's cock. The noises this attention garnered from Aziraphale made his own cock weep in his way-too-tight leather pants. His friend's throbbing arousal was large and difficult to fit in his mouth, but he managed by breathing through his nose and focusing on chasing Aziraphale's taste. Gone was the putrid stink of fire and brimstone and the smell of flowers and fresh earth and sunlight filled him. 

From the moment they connected, Crowley felt that heady addiction for Aziraphale and his heart pounded furiously in his chest, the beat echoing in his groin.

He opened himself up to Aziraphale on an invisible plane, and focused all of his love and affection and gratitude and desperation and lust on his angel. He hoped that Aziraphale felt it. But the angel was so quiet above him. He was choking on the cock and Krone, being the bastard he was, pushed and pulled at the angel's hips, making him fuck his mouth. Krone did stop his orchestration for a moment, moving towards Crowley. Fear zipped through the angel as he watched the jet black being unzip Crowley's pants and pull his cock free. 

Crowley could feel the angel's eyes fall upon his nakedness as soon as it was revealed, and Aziraphale let out a choked sob. His hands strained against the bonds that cut his flesh and he longed to touch, feeling horrifically guilty. 

Thinking that this may be his only chance to lavish sexual attention on Aziraphale, Crowley stopped to kiss and lick the head, to mouth from root to tip, to lick and suck and kiss his balls. And Aziraphale made more noise now than when he was being tortured. 

"Ppll---please...Crowley..." his voice was high and tight and ready to snap. 

Crowley stuffed his mouth all the way down to the back of his throat and used his tongue in its natural form to tug at the turgid shaft. His nose was buried in blonde white curls and Aziraphale was shaking uncontrollably, mumbling things he couldn't make out. The cock in his mouth twitched and began to come. He swallowed as his mouth filled with sweet and salty liquid. When the deed was done, Crowley leaned back in the chair, his own erection painfully pleading for attention. Aziraphale was in too much pain and too ashamed to lower himself to his knees and return the favor, but even if he wanted to, the chains stopped him. 

Krone moved to the demon and Aziraphale pled for him to be left alone. The foreign hand with long nails was wrapping around crowley, pumping him, whispering to him how depraved he was - how filthy and unworthy of the angel he was. Shame gripped his heart and he didn't want to come - not like this - not under the angel's hot gaze in the hands of someone he didn't want touching him. But the sooner he did, the sooner this would be over.

Silently, Crowley came. Krone tilted his cock as he did so so that the spend would spatter upon the naked angel's body. A wretched sound came out of Crowley's lips, and then it was over. 

Suddenly, the chains were gone. All of them.

Krone was walking away. "We're not done with you," Krone said menacingly as he sauntered away. "More torture awaits. This was just the beginning," he disappeared into a roll of gray smoke.

Crowley stood on shaking legs, arms wrapping around a very naked and bleeding Aziraphale who was falling into his arms. "L...let me...see your wings..." Crowley trembled.

Aziraphale was covered in blood, his eyes hovering shut, but he managed to manifest his wings. 

Shock flitted across Crowley's face and Aziraphale wondered if they'd turned black. But he still felt holy light and forgiveness and love and warmth burn within him, so he turned his head and caught sight of white...red bloody white.. but white. He felt the weeping wings drop tears of blood onto his clothing and it made him ache with gripping sadness. 

"You...didn't fall..." he said with relief.

He gathered the broken and bleeding angel in his arms, rubbing at his shoulders so that his wings would fold in to their plane and disappear for the time being. His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts, but now was not the time to ask them. He needed to get he and the angel out of here, back to Earth, back to somewhere safe. 

"Come on, let's go home," he snapped, and clothed his angel. They limped from hell.


End file.
